


Edit That Out

by taormina



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Video Cameras, every cloud has a silver lining, james bakes a cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James decides to bake a cake for YouTube. Richard films it. Stuff then happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edit That Out

**Author's Note:**

> A cheerful, hopeful fic about James’s new past-time. The boys’ #unemployment is mentioned, but mostly in a lighthearted manner. Becomes a lot more ‘feelsy’ towards the end.

Richard didn’t think James’s ‘unemployment’ videos were particularly brilliant, but they were better than anything _he_ had done to pass the time (and he didn’t have anything else to do anyway, let’s be honest), so when James asked him to help him with the next instalment, he couldn’t say no.

After all, a _distraction is a distraction_ , Richard thought when he hit ‘send’ on the text confirming that he was in – and God knows he needed one.

(Richard quickly followed his first text with a second one begging James _Please don’t ask me to_ _build a Lego life-sized fighter jet with you or something I swear to god I will never work with you again ever._ )

Besides, something good may come out of this yet.

When Richard arrived at James’s on a windy Friday afternoon ( _incognito_ , in case some journalists ganged up on him and asked him if this meant he had to go and present children’s TV again), James had already set everything up in the tattered kitchen that had featured in his previous videos.

(When we say ‘set everything up’, we mean ‘orderly put all the needed ingredients and cooking applications on the kitchen counter and ordered the cat out’. There wasn’t much going on in the way of professional video-making.)

Then again, it’s not like James had a choice. Yesterday, the majority of his Twitter followers had agreed that, given the choice between a ‘how-to-mend-your-bike-if-you-really-have-nothing-else-to-do-with-your-life’ or a step-by-step video about how to make a chocolate custard cake, the cake was the better option – even if his Sheppard’s pie video had been slightly abysmal. So, cooking it was.

Admittedly, Richard felt a bit gutted that they’d be cooking (as opposed to the more manly pursuits that Richard had pitched over the phone like BLOW SOMETHING UP YEAH!) but at least they were doing something together. He’d missed that. Of course, Richard would never tell him that. Nope.

***

Richard was looking around the kitchen.

‘So, er, this is where it’s going to happen then- _uah_!’ Richard’s question was followed by a yelp; a very undignified one, in fact. Richard had leaned against the kitchen counter and a knob had come off one of the drawers.

‘What was that?’ James asked Richard, having heard it.

Richard was aware of the fact that James was fond of the kitchen, so he knew he had to make something up.

‘I, er, ow – _ow_ -ah,’ Richard said pathetically, rubbing his back as he tried to re-create the sound that had escaped his lips. ‘My back really hurts from ... doing ... stuff t-that makes your back ... hurt.’

_Nice one, Rich._

‘Right.’ James said, not buying it entirely. ‘Just make sure you don’t die of agony while I present my cooking show. Program. Whatever it is.’  
  
When James wasn’t looking, Richard discreetly slid the knob into his jeans pocket and promised himself to try to convince James to modify the kitchen in their next joint Youtube project.  

James simply pretended nothing had happened.

‘—But indeed, Hammond,’ said James, rather proudly because he already had 100,000 Youtube subscribers, ‘This is where we’ll be doing most of the work. Well, when I say ‘work’ ... Nothing’s broken down yet, anyway,’ he added, sensing Richard’s apprehension, ‘And the oven still hasn’t blown up either so that’s good.’

‘Okaaay,’ said Richard, cautiously stepping away from the oven. ‘I’m just gonna … stand over here if you don’t mind, mate.’

To be entirely frank, Richard still wasn’t entirely sold on James’s new pasttime. They had supported each other in their previous solo pursuits though (well, sort of), so Richard wasn’t going to stop now.

Thankfully, all _he_ had to do was operate the camera.

_Nooo problem_.

***

‘Right.’ James said a few minutes later. For someone who retweeted the odd negative comment about his videos and didn’t seem remotely interested in whether people liked his dodgy jumpers and subpar editing, James seemed rather nervous. Strangely, though, James wasn’t wearing a dodgy jumper at all today; he was wearing a tartan shirt.

In fact, Richard reckoned, James looked sort of ... good. Nervous, but good.  
  
‘Can you see the kitchen counter from up there, Hammond? Is the lighting all right? God, it _is_ a bit shoddy, isn’t it? Perhaps I should have mended the lamp; that would have been much better.’ He ran his fingers through his hair restlessly.  ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve _forgotten_ something, as well.’

He went through the list of things he’d be needing out loud.

 ‘Should I be wearing an apron?’ James said after he had crossed off all the needed kitchen utensils in his head, and he started towards the apron that he had folded neatly over one of the dining chairs. ‘No,’ he said, glancing at Richard, who was looking way too attractive for his assigned role behind the camera. ‘That’s a stupid idea. I’m not going to wear an apron.’  
  
‘God, _James_.’ Richard said after a few minutes. He had taken the liberty of bringing one of his private camcorders that he always used for _special occasions_ , and was seated on a high, wooden stool opposite the kitchen sink. The afternoon hadn’t gone off to a great start.

‘It’s a video for _Youtube_. Stop pretending you’re … Well, you know, like you’re going to be on _MasterChef_ , for crying out loud!’  
  
Richard had mostly intended the remark to sound sarcastic, something to take the edge off, but it was tinged with a hint of concern. He was tempted to ask James whether he was feeling all right, actually.

 ‘I’m aware of that,’ said James, catching the tone in Richard’s voice. ‘It’s just –’

The truth was this: the only reason James was acting so strangely was because of Richard. Sure, he _was_ starting to feel the pressure of having to deliver a not-entirely-shit product to keep the fans happy. Most of his nervousness was being caused by Richard,  though: just the thought of him being there, with his tight shirt and jeans and stupid product in his hair and his blunt ignorance of how therapeutic these videos were for James – all that and more was making him feel extremely nervous.  
  
James would never hear the end of it if he told Richard that though, especially not if Richard decided to tell Jeremy _please God no_ , so instead he chose to say, rather smugly and perhaps a bit too defensively, ‘I’ll have you know that I already have 100,000 Youtube subscribers.’

‘Wow, _do_ you?’ said Richard, pretending to be very impressed indeed. _OK, he doesn’t want to talk about it right now, fine._ ‘I have literally _no idea_ what that means.’  
  
‘Well, now that you mention it, YouTube’s quite interesting, actually,’ said James, happy to change the subject. ‘Did you know that –’  
  
‘No, _don’t_ – I don’t wanna know, OK?’ Richard said just in time, sensing the start an hour-long explanation of the intricacies of Youtube. He picked up the camera and hit the record button. ‘Just bake your bloody cake before I die of old age.’  
  
A beat –  

‘You’ll be fine, James. Seriously.’ Richard said finally, and he meant it.  _Everything’s going to be fine._

***

‘Yo, people of Youtube,’ James said, making some sort of gesture that Richard could only describe as a bit too try-hard. ‘Welcome to James May’s Unemployment Tube, episode six or thereabouts.’

For Richard, this was starting to feel like a very strange out-of-body experience. Filming James. James undoubtedly about to talk to him about iced sugar and eggs rather than flappy paddle gearboxes. The smell of a pre-heated oven, not the smell of burning tyres. It all felt very domestic, and Richard didn’t mind it. Perhaps he should have done, but he didn’t. It almost felt as though they were ... Well, you know.  
                 
‘Unlike my previous videos, which have been very well received by the way, thank you, this _exciting_ new episode is being filmed with an actual _camcorder_ , so if you’re an insufferable little _nerd_ you can stop complaining about the picture quality in the comments section. Also, I’ve – HAMMOND! STOP FILMING THE CAT!’

‘Right, sorry,’ said Richard, who had become momentarily distracted. He sat up straight and ignored the cat, who was purring contently around Richard’s ankles. ‘We’ll, erm, edit that out I suppose.’

‘Sorry, kind viewers,’ said James, facing the camera again, ‘I should probably explain that this particular episode of James May’s Unemployment Tube is being filmed by Richard Hammond, who has kindly agreed to bring his camera with him.’  
  
Richard turned the camera round and gave a little wave and a dashing smile.

‘Don’t worry though, if he continues to be annoying we’ll just edit him out as well.’

Richard cocked his right eyebrow at the camera, suggesting that no such thing was going to happen if _he_ had anything to do with it. Turning the camera back around: ‘I’ll bet you a _million_ pounds that this video will be your best viewed yet if you keep me in.’

James chuckled at the thought. What a preposterous suggestion!

 ‘I’m serious, James. How much did your last one get?’

‘Dunno,’ said James. ‘130k? Although the – what’s it called – the one where I played the flute or something,  that one did considerably better.’

‘By how much?’  
  
‘About 800,’ James replied smugly.

‘What, 800,000?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Right. OK. So. I’ll bet you a million pounds that this next one – with me in it – hits one million. Within a week.’

James considered it briefly. He had an inkling that Richard was right and that his good looks and popularity would raise his Youtube stats considerably (not to mention the inevitable ‘YOUTUBE VIDEO SHOWS HAMMOND AND MAY GET TOGETHER FOR NEW PROJECT. CLARKSON SNUB?’ clickbait headlines it would produce), but he didn’t want to admit it on-camera.  
  
Besides, he was doing all right on his own.

‘Go on then, why not,’ said James, and he shook Richard’s extended hand.  
  
‘However,’ said James, addressing the viewers now, ‘This being a serious show, I should probably point out that betting money –’

‘When you’re unemployed,’ interrupted Hammond.

James hadn’t quite seen that comment coming, and he cracked up.

 ‘—Placing all your money in a childish bet is not cool, brothers and sisters.’ James said finally, when the laughter had died down. ‘Be a good sport and gamble away someone else’s money instead.’

‘Yea- _hah_ ,’ Richard said gleefully, feeling he may get the hang of this whole thing yet.

He’d missed this. He’d missed James. _God_ , he’d missed him. And Jeremy. But right now he missed May in his not-so-stupid outfit and his stupid faulty kitchen and his stupid cake a little bit more.  
  
‘Slipped in some consumer advice there James, I like it.’

***

Needless to say, progress was slow. When James finally got round to announcing on-camera what he’d be making, fifteen minutes had already passed and James decided that now would be the perfect time to get out the bottle of red wine he’d bought for the occasion. James had briefly gone through all the ingredients that were needed to prepare the custard cake and was now in the process of uncorking the bottle.

‘Now, viewers,’ said James, ‘I should probably point out that alcohol isn’t strictly necessary for this cake, to be honest; in fact, I don’t think it would enhance the taste very much. If you’re feeling adventurous you could try it out though, I suppose.’

He filled his glass and took a sip. The appreciative moan that followed made Richard very envious.  
  
James then went on to explain what kind of wine it was, which he said was ‘very good on its own, but perhaps not when mixed with cake’. When this explanation was finished, Richard begged James to give him a glass of wine as well.

 ‘I can’t, you’re supposed to be operating the camera,’ James said matter-of-factly, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that suggested he was  teasing Richard a little bit. ‘Maybe if you ask _nicely_.’

Richard then made a threat that was so serious that it would definitely have to be edited out of the final montage, and James gave in and handed Richard a glass anyway.

***

The rest of the afternoon passed in pretty much the same manner: James taking the whole thing a bit too seriously (but not so seriously that he couldn’t make the odd joke) and Richard frequently interrupting him with on-the-spot remarks, e.g. ‘How much wine have you _had_?’ and ‘Jesus James, “a piece of butter the size of a piece of cheese you would serve your mates” is not an accurate form of measurement!’

The banter was for the better though, as the actual cake-making wasn’t very interesting. Apart from an impromptu cameo by James’s cat (who, despite James’s earlier comments, Richard decided was more interesting to film than a bowl of ... stuff), the  cooking process was extremely dull. How baking shows on television manage to make beating egg yolks look interesting, Richard had no idea.

When James finally put the cake into the oven to bake for forty minutes (‘Give or take, viewers, I’m not an expert’), he (James) bluntly announced that he’d edit in a few shots of him playing _Jessica_ on the piano to ease in the transitions between the cake going into the oven and the cake coming out again, and asked Richard to hit ‘pause’.

‘Wait, that’s _it_?’ said Richard, glancing at the cake in the oven. It didn’t look very promising, and truth be told he wasn’t ready to go home just yet. He knew James could just as easily do the rest of their little film himself, though, and he felt a feeling of tense dread in his chest.

‘Well, I don’t _really_ want to put you through the trouble of filming the oven for forty minutes. It would make shit television, anyway. Or Youtube, rather,’ was James’s reply, and he filled their glasses with the remainder of the red wine. ‘We’ll just wait until the stupid thing looks reasonably edible and then we’ll get back to work.’

At this, Richard breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
James continued, ‘Maybe I’ll place a fondant car on top. Mind you, I’m quite interested in what we’ve ended up with so far. May I …?’ he said, pointing at the camcorder in Richard’s hands.  

‘Yeah, sure.’ Richard handed him the camcorder and they both watched the footage in silence.

***

When the film ended (James had taken the liberty of fast-forwarding the various ‘scenes’ that James and Richard had spent cocking about, of which there were many), it was quite obvious that Richard’s attempt wasn’t much better than what James had ended up with on his iPad. Truthful to his word to the viewers, the picture quality _was_ better though so at least that’s one thing they did right.

‘Well.’ James said after a while. He was trying to come up with a positive comment about some technical aspect of Richard’s efforts, like how good he thought the positioning of the camera was, but even _that_ wasn’t particularly good. In fact, it was downright awful; anyway, if he had to be brutally honest James had spent most of the viewing experience wondering if he should have washed his hair or not.

James’s lips curved into a smile. ‘It’s not that great to be honest, Hammond. I wouldn’t give up your day job just yet.’

Richard had just taken a big sip of his drink, and he nearly spat it out. Now it was _his_ moment to crack up.

‘What?’ said James innocently, pretending he had no idea what was so funny. _God_ , he thought, looking away so that Richard couldn’t see the stupid, geeky smile that was playing on his lips; he loved having this effect on Richard. He _loved_ it.

‘I see what you did there, James, _very_ good. Ten points.’ Richard said when he had finally recovered, and he meant it. Just in case he cracked up again, he put away the glass of wine.

‘Thanks,’ said James. They spent the next few seconds looking at each other a bit longer than absolutely necessary, their thoughts no longer focussed on whatever the hell they were here for.

What _were_ they here for?  
  
Richard was the first to look away.

‘I know we’re not ... I know we’re still mates and everything,’ Richard said as he scratched his head, ‘But I’d really – you know. I mean, if this is _it_ , then ... God, what a waste. I mean, not just the show, obviously, but ... the journeys and the cars and the stupid races and – well, us. Together. A unit. The time we’ve spent together. I’m really going to miss it.’ – A pause – ‘I mean, y _ou_. I’m going to miss _you_ , James. Fuck it, I’m going to miss you _very_ much. More than I can say. If you know what I mean.’

Richard looked at James sadly. He knew he had crossed a line there was no going back from, and it was impossible to say what was going through James’s mind right now.  
  
‘Anyway,’ Richard continued shyly, ‘Yeah. I’m glad I got to spend it with you. And Jeremy. I mean, you’re insufferable sometimes James, but you’re all right. More than all right, really. God, please say something before I top myself.’

Silence –

‘I didn’t think you’d get so emotional over a cake, Hammond.’

‘... Bastard.’

They smiled at each other knowingly. Of course James knew that Richard wasn’t talking about the cake. In fact, he had a suspicion that he wasn’t even talking about _the incident_ _and the events that had followed it_ at all, but it seemed unfair to those affected by it to hope that something positive would come out of it after all.

God, he needed a distraction. Telling Richard he didn’t like the sight of the messy kitchen counter, he started cleaning up. Richard offered to help, but James said he’d rather do it on his own – something about Richard not being able to put the things back in the right drawers.

So, realising the enormity of the bombshell that he had just dropped, Richard took on the self-assigned role of guarding the oven in case the cake imploded.

***

When James had washed and neatly put away most of the kitchen apparatus in their respective drawers (‘That’s odd, that drawer knob was there an hour ago…’), he was ready to face Richard again.

 ‘So erm, now what?’ Richard said apprehensively. He was still watching the oven closely. ‘I mean, with the cake.’

 ‘Dunno,’ said James. He stared at the camera that Richard had left on his stool, thinking it might give him an idea as to how to spend the time next. ‘We could do a bit of editing?’

_God no, I don’t want to do that._

Richard didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Bit boring, that.’

_Yes. Good._

‘Yeah.’

‘Or,’ said Richard, more to himself than to James, an idea forming in his head, ‘we could …’

Richard looked at James. Should he...? He put his hands on his hips as though bracing himself for the inevitable embarrassment, opened his mouth to say something ...

‘We could ...’

_Nope_. Richard closed his mouth again. What he wanted to suggest was preposterous. Impossible.

‘We could do _what,_ Hammond?’ James had a feeling that he knew where this was going, but he didn’t dare put it into words. _Couldn’t_. What he was thinking was stupid and childish. Hammond probably was going to suggest they do a bit of cycling. Perhaps they could try to run into a journalist at a high speed.

Richard ruffled his hair nervously. _Maybe not cycling._

‘ _Hammond_?’

‘We –’ Richard looked as though he was struggling to put his thoughts into words now, too. Was he blushing? _Oh dear Lord, he’s blushing_. ‘I thought … I was wondering … er, how – I was wondering how much battery life is left in the camera.’

Richard hadn’t even looked James in the eyes as he said it, and the last few words in the sentence were barely a whisper.

_Definitely not cycling._

‘About …’ James checked the camera. His heart was racing now. ‘Thirty – Twenty-nine per cent, why?’

The words that Richard whispered into James’s ear next were all that needed to be said, and now James was blushing furiously too.

‘You’re not seriously suggesting …?’ James said, looking doubtfully at the kitchen counter. His heart was racing so fast that he thought it might power a small engine.

‘Well, not _here_ , clearly.’

James swallowed. ‘We’re going to have to do a hell of a lot of editing. Are you sure…?’

Richard’s eyes met James’s. ‘Yeah.’

‘I may have to confiscate your camera afterwards.’  
  
‘Possibly.’

‘What about your back ache?’

‘Gone. Completely.’

In the space of time it had taken for the conversation to take this sudden turn, Richard had inched closer and closer. He was now well and truly invading James’s limited personal space, and James would probably have done something about if it wasn’t for  the wine in his system and the smell of Richard’s expensive shampoo. God, he smelled good.  

 ‘What if the kitchen burns down?’ said James, and he immediately knew that he wouldn’t give a shit if it did.

Richard’s eyes shone with promise. ‘ _Really_ don’t care.’

James didn’t upload any videos that afternoon.  


End file.
